


rather happy than dignified

by meanderingsoul



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Being Walked In On, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, Old Friends, Post-Season/Series 03, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-29 23:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingsoul/pseuds/meanderingsoul
Summary: Mac had never used any of Phryne’s guestrooms.





	rather happy than dignified

 

Mac had never used any of Phryne’s guestrooms.

She knew there were several, not just the one like at Mac’s own little terrace house that had become more a library than anything else, but she’d never used one at the Wardlow. When she and Phryne had imbibed in one or three too many of whatever that night’s poison had been, they always staggered up to Phryne’s own bed.

Phryne had rarely used Mac’s guestroom either, yet another reason they avoided sharing a roof for too long as grown women. They had many reasons by now. Only one of them involved a “kitchen” knife.

It had been a very rare occasion the Fisher girls had been allowed to stay the night in the cramped little room that Mac had grown up with, even rarer the other way around when Mr. Fisher’s absence could be guaranteed. And the boarding house she’d lived in during nursing school had been strict.

But Phryne had hated sleeping alone as a girl. After Janey was lost, she’d climbed in Mac’s window every few nights it seemed like. And then she was gone too.

Then it had been years of seeing Phryne only a handful of weeks at a time and tumbling into bed drunk and talking til the small hours became old hat.

Mac had hesitated, after Phryne knew the truth about her nature, after years of letting her closest friend think her someone uninterested in sex rather than tell her the truth and risk losing her. Phryne had only tugged her up the steps as usual.

Mac had stayed awake long after she was asleep and cried silently, dark hair becoming stuck to her cheek.

Phryne had woken that morning and only commented groggily that her brasserie was in sad shape.

They’d always done this, so Mac hadn’t given it a second thought tonight. Miss Dot was long past being startled by them and Mr. Butler had some sixth sense for whether it was more than just one person in this room.

But something had woken her, and a strangled sound made her finally crack open one eye at Phryne’s overly purple boudoir.

Jack Robinson stood just inside the door with his hand halfway to his waistcoat buttons, the streetlight enough to make out his startled expression.

Oh. Well then.

If things were to the point where that particular man was comfortable letting himself in and crawling into bed at some God-forsaken hour of the morning, then things were going even better than Mac had thought since her friend’s latest return from England. She’d known they were going _well_ , knew far too much about it in fact, though Phryne’s bewildered complaints about just how well it was going were a great source of hilarity.

And the fact that his only reaction to finding a woman he knew to be an invert in the bed of the woman he was seeing was a twitching smile that wanted to be a full-on grin only put him a peg higher in Mac’s regard.

“Apologies Doctor, I hadn’t realized you were here,” he murmured.

Mac was trying to string together enough words for either something polite or something about how three adults in their thirties should not be discussing a school-girl sleeping arrangement with such gravitas at such a ghastly hour when at least one of them would no doubt be hungover soon.

Of course, _now_ Phryne deigned to wake up enough to mumble something that might contain a _j_ in his general direction. Mac closed her eyes. Maybe she could forget all about this by morning.

“It seems I’ve been displaced for the night,” Jack said quietly, the undertone of amusement clear if you knew what to listen for.

“Nonsense,” Phryne mumbled. “Come to bed. Mac roll over a bit.”

Her eyes snapped open. “I will not.”

“Maaaaac,” Phryne whined and gave her a pitiful shove, all the more pitiful because her pale arm hadn’t shifted the slightest bit from around Mac’s waist.

“ _No_.” Even if she broke out the _other_ nickname, Mac was not moving from this spot. Her head was pounding faintly and who knew where her trousers were. Phryne would no doubt be delighted to be squashed between them both the rest of the night, and bless her ridiculous soul her bed was big enough for three, but no. Mac had limits. Robinson no doubt had limits too. Exposure to Phryne Fisher only undid so many straight-laced laces.

Which is why Mac was genuinely shocked when he moved around to the far side of the bed. Sharing with Phryne was one thing. Sharing with Phryne and a lover was not happening, even if it was Jack Robinson.

If she had to get up they’d never hear the end of it. She’d make sure of that.

There was a rustling, a shift in the mattress and a brush of disturbed air behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him kneeling over to press a lingering kiss to Phryne’s cheek before saying, “Absolutely not.”

Phryne tried to sit up when he pulled away but gave up in a matter of seconds. Mac chuckled under her breath, was still fighting undignified giggles when a broad hand gave her shoulder a surprisingly companionable squeeze on his way towards the door.

“Goodnight,” he said, no doubt heading towards one of the guestrooms Mac had never seen.

Phryne made a plaintive little sound after the door closed.

Mac squirmed gracelessly over to face her, probably a terrible idea, whiskey sour on her tongue, but too late now. “I like him,” she said. They both already knew that, but it seemed to merit repeating just now. There’d never been a man around in a way for Mac to even bother having an opinion about before.

“Mmm. That’s nice Lizzie,” Phryne mumbled and fell back asleep with a snuffle before Mac could even protest the horrible nickname. Damn her. 

Mac huffed the tickly bangs out of her face and closed her eyes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this image in my head all week and finally sat down and wrote it in one go, a first for me. We haven't had many scenes with all three of them being social together, but every bit of the ones we did get were delightful. 
> 
> Several of my headcanons for tv Mac are given slight mentions here. Maybe someday I'll work more of them into fics.
> 
> Title is a butchering of the quote, "I would always rather be happy than dignified," from Jane Eyre. It seemed to suit the situation.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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